


moment of reflection

by ivelostmyspectacles



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Established Relationship, Hair Brushing, M/M, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27859634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles
Summary: “I’m sorry about The… about Not-Sasha.”Jon tenses, a little.[Episode 165 tag]
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood
Comments: 8
Kudos: 85





	moment of reflection

“I’m– c–can we– we should take a break.”

“Sorry?” Martin’s been daydreaming, a little. Thinking. Because if he stayed focused on the present anymore than he already had to be, he might actually lose it a bit. So he lets his mind wander, especially when Jon’s quiet, just to keep himself occupied on something other than the twisted reality they’re in. So it doesn’t really register what Jon’s said, until he takes a second to actually _focus_ on what he’d said, and… taking a break has been so far removed from what Jon has wanted to do that it, briefly, pulls a bit of teasing out of Martin. “Did you just say we should _rest,_ Jon?”

“I–”

“When you’ve repeatedly told me that we can’t get _tired_ here?” he continues, nudging his shoulder. Things would probably feel a little more normal if they _could,_ and Martin would definitely like to _need_ to sleep to pass a few hours without all of this, but he knows they don’t have to. He isn’t tired. Jon especially hasn’t been tired.

“I _know,”_ Jon snaps, and Martin pauses in his gentle humor.

He’d been off, since The Stranger. And… yeah. He’d warned him, before he’d gone off to spew the vitriol of that realm, and Martin really _hadn’t_ wanted to know. He’s pretty sure he still doesn’t want to know. But then Not-Sasha… and Martin is still kind of… _wow,_ about the whole smiting thing. He knows it isn’t really _good,_ but– but it’s _something,_ right? Something Jon can _do_ to protect them in a world that’s trying to hurt them. About damn time they get _something,_ anything, that can protect them from the things desperate to kill them.

Martin’s not _scared_ of Jon. Not really. Not much. He knows it’s all Beholding and Powers he shouldn’t have, but… Jon’s still in there, too. Whatever happens, whatever happened and will happen, Martin’s not… scared, really. Not of Jon. Of other things? Sure. But not scared of Jon. He never could be.

But Jon’s been so quiet, so withdrawn since they’d left the merry-go-round behind. And Martin has been trying to let that look on Jon’s face, that one as he’d _begged_ Martin for them to leave, go, but… maybe not. Maybe he’s not scared. Maybe he'd been a little _proud._ Maybe, just maybe, because _that’s_ the kind of thing it’s going to take to get through this and get back to the panopticon. But… yeah, that’s just him. _He_ hadn’t obliterated someone… something. He should have checked in sooner.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says suddenly. “That was– uncalled for.” He shrugs his bag off, looking like he wants to sink to the ground with it. “I’m just…”

“Tired,” Martin finishes, dropping his pack, too.

“No,” Jon replies. “Not that. I’m not _tired,_ we can’t get _tired–”_

“I know.”

“That’s not how it _works,_ here–”

“Jon,” Martin interrupted.

Jon stops, caught in his rambling. He looks sheepish for a moment, and then utterly _weary._ Forget tired, just utterly _drained._ “Sorry,” he says again, and sits on the ground next to his things.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Martin says, following suit. _“I_ should be.”

Jon’s face softens, just a little. “Martin…” 

“I should have checked in,” he continues, unzipping his bag. “After Not-Sasha. That was… I think that was a lot for you. More than you want to tell me. Which is okay,” he adds quickly, when Jon opens his mouth to speak. “I– I can’t be your therapist.” Even if part of him still wanted to be. “And I don’t think I’d really understand, anyway. But we could have taken it easy for a while, Jon. We don’t have to be tired to take a break.”

“I… yes,” Jon admits, although it sounds like he’s begrudging to say it. “I– I know. I know.” He lets out a breath then, hands clutching at his knees. He looks… vulnerable. Martin can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad one. “I’m in this mindset we have to keep going, but that… that took a lot out of me.” He laughs, just once, flat and unhappy. “If I were back in London, I’d have to have a lie-down.”

Martin stops rummaging– he doesn’t know what he’s rummaging for, nothing really, just something to keep his hands busy; he understands Jon’s restless anxiety, if he’s being honest– and then reaches for the blanket strapped to the pack instead. “You can still have a lie-down.”

“I don’t _need_ to have a lie-down.”

“You don’t _‘need’_ to have a lie-down to have a lie-down,” Martin says quickly, and plucks at the final buckle to let the blanket roll free. “You can just scoot down here–”

“Martin–” Jon starts, leaning into the amused exasperation of old again. But Martin doesn’t let him finish.

_“Jon,”_ he says sternly, and shakes the blanket out. “I’m going absolutely nowhere until you take a few minutes. I know it’s not the most comfortable spot in the world–” but it wasn’t _uncomfortable,_ either, which… Martin guesses is the best they can get these days, “but you can put your head in my lap, close your eyes for a little while.”

“I–” It seems like Jon’s protest dies on his lips. Martin’s glad. “… fine,” Jon continues quietly. “Although,” he adds, moving to be able to stretch out next to him, “I’m not convinced this isn’t _just_ a ploy to have me cuddle you.”

“Ooh, caught me.” It’s kind of the other way around, as Jon settles back, resting his head on Martin’s thigh, but he doesn’t say. It doesn’t really matter. And he doesn’t _mind,_ as he carefully settles the blanket over Jon best he can. “My true motives exposed.”

Jon smiles up at him, lethargic. Maybe he doesn’t need to sleep, but Martin thinks _this_ will be good. A chance to breathe. “Well,” Jon said, closing his eyes, “there are worse things.”

_There are definitely worse things._ Martin doesn’t say that, either. He knows. Jon Knows. Right now, he’s just going to sit here, and let Jon rest his head his lap, and they’re just going to… take a moment.

… God, he wishes there was tea. It’s ludicrous, stupid, but he wants to forget for a minute, wants to pretend they’re back in Jon’s little flat, curled on the couch, tea and telly and no responsibilities. No _apocalypses._ But that’s dangerous. Martin knows it’s dangerous. So he doesn’t linger on anything except _God, a cuppa would be nice_ before he draws himself back into the moment. He slips his fingers into Jon’s hair and starts to comb through it, smoothing the tangles away from his face. Apocalypse aside, it isn’t… bad.

Okay, well, what had led to _this_ in particular was bad, it _is_ bad, it’s really bad, and he’d been stupid, back at the carousel. “I’m sorry about The… about Not-Sasha.”

Jon tenses, a little. He doesn’t open his eyes, but hums a noise that is neither here nor there.

Martin continues stroking his hair, twisting his fingers around the greying strands. “I… I still don’t think it’s _bad,_ necessarily? To have that line of defense. Especially when– well, maybe things aren’t trying to kill _you_ in particular, but… but in general, when things are really, _really_ dangerous. It’s… a bit of a relief, honestly? But,” he says quickly, “I’m sorry that it’s you. I’m sorry that– that you have to experience it. I really wish you didn’t have to. I _really_ wish I could help? But, um.” He brushes a piece of hair away from Jon’s forehead. “I’m sorry I got _too_ excited, earlier. Bit… _weirdly_ excited, actually.”

Jon was looking up at him again, a sort of puppy-dog look without even probably trying, but he was just looking _up_ at him that way and… _yeah._ He looked sad and conflicted and exhausted, but still warm and a little more relaxed and adoring.

“So I’m sorry,” Martin says again, and leans down to kiss his forehead.

He doesn’t know what he expects; he just, _doesn’t,_ really. He expects Jon to mumble something and then close his eyes and not-sleep again, which would be fine. But then Jon surprises him: he reaches back, guiding Martin’s hand in until he can press his lips against the back of it, lips brushing so softly against his knuckles.

(Martin can’t help it, still: his heart does the skip and jump, the soar of butterflies swells in his stomach even though this is not _new,_ now. He loves Jon. Jon loves him. His heart feels fit to burst at every reminder, even now, even here.)

“Me, too,” Jon says quietly, and does close his eyes then.

Martin still has to breathe out, a little uneven now. He rests his palm on Jon’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of whatever breathing Jon does these days. Jon’s hand stays loosely atop Martin’s. Maybe just feeling, too. It’s nice. It’s okay. They’re okay.

“Get some rest, Jon,” Martin says firmly, and Jon nods, acquiescing.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally catching up on s5! I absolutely love how Martin got so excited about Jon being able to smite like, _hell yeah_ 💪 but then I was so sad by how upset Jon immediately got 😭 I guess I was a little thrown off by just HOW happy Martin sounded when Jon was doing something ~Not Good? even though Not-Sasha was definitely Not Good. (but then I'm also just, Martin knows what they need to get through this! this is the apocalypse! no holds barred!)
> 
> I have lots of feelings about this episode LOL it was so good...... hella


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